


Set Your Destiny to Snooze

by NachoSammich



Series: Procrastination AU [1]
Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Everyone is Older and Sassy, Gen, Timeskip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-06-26 20:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19775509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoSammich/pseuds/NachoSammich
Summary: When Jack Spicer gets a mysterious package in the mail, he doesn't bother opening it. He'll get to it later, he figures, and he tosses it into a corner.Seven years later, he finds it again, and accidentally sets in motion a chain of events that should have happened much earlier.A retelling of canon that explores the possibility of a world where Jack didn't open the puzzlebox, the Wu didn't go active, the other Chosen Ones were never found, and everyone moved on with their lives.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'd like to introduce you all to an AU that is very near and dear to my heart, and has existed in one form or another since 2014, and is now, FINALLY, arriving on the scene in fic form.
> 
> Welcome....to Procrastination AU.
> 
> This is less of a story with a beginning, middle, and end and more of a sandbox-style rewrite of the series. So instead of one big fic, there's going to be lots of smaller installments, jumping around to different points in canon and focusing on different characters. Think of this first installment as the "pilot:" it's here to introduce you to the characters and the premise. It's 100% written already, and I'm going to post each chapter as I finish editing it. I've got bits of other installments already written as well, so if you're wondering what other characters are up to in this au....sit tight. They're coming.
> 
> I'd like to give a huge thanks to all my friends who've let me bounce ideas off them over the years, and a special shout out to MalkyTop and CuriousCanine for betaing this first chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy!

It wasn’t bad, as evil lairs went.

Most villains, when given the chance, would go for something flashy. Something like an abandoned warehouse, or a haunted amusement park, or a deep-sea space base. But for someone just starting out, Jack Spicer figured that he could do worse than his parents’ basement. After all, he was 14, and apart from his weekly allowance and his leftover Bar Mitzvah money he wasn’t exactly rolling in funds. 

He had everything he needed to get started. He had a sweet computer array (scrounged from garage sales and his old school’s computer lab; he’d found like  _ three _ working monitors and a huge clunky keyboard that was probably as old as he was). He had a cool table to plot on (stolen from his neighbor’s front yard and tweaked to look more evil genius-y) and a bunch of maps to pore over (torn out from one of his dad’s old atlases). He even had the beginnings of his own evil army of robots - the result of months of part-scavenging, many long, sleepless nights of programming, and a good chunk of his savings.

All he needed now was a plan.

Every good evil genius needed somewhere to start, and he figured that his bots would be more than enough to overthrow a small government. Even though he hadn’t field tested them yet. And he only had ten so far - but he’d have more once he got his next week’s allowance. Definitely.

“Iceland or Fiji?” he muttered to himself, scowling down at the scattered mess of maps covering most of his Evil Plotting Table. “Gotta pick one.”

Behind him, there was a sharp, insistent beep. He spun around and scowled at the robot hovering there. “I’m busy!” he snapped. “Can’t it wait?”

The robot beeped again, an apologetic sound, and held something out in its clawed hand.

“What’s this?” Jack took it, turning it over in his hand. It was a small package wrapped in brown paper, with a shipping label printed on the top. His name was on it, but the return address was nameless. It just said “Hong Kong.”

“Must be from Dad,” Jack muttered. “Probably another snowglobe.” He set the package down on the floor and kicked it back into a corner. He’d open it later. His dad’s weird gifts could wait - Jack Spicer had some serious world conquering to do.

And so the teenager continued to plot and scheme as the true key to his victory sat alone in the shadows, as unremarkable as the dust that quickly settled atop its wrinkled paper covering.

* * *

On the other side of the world, the sun was just cresting the horizon. It cast its soft, golden light over an idyllic valley, gently spreading over every rock, every leaf, and every blade of grass. The light spilled over the shining white walls of a secluded temple, illuminating the quiet bustle of its courtyard as the temple’s inhabitants began their day.

In a tall, cylindrical building near the rear of the complex, a lone figure sat in silence. His long legs were arranged in the meditative lotus position, but his eyes were open and fixed on the open doorway as he sat, serene, with his hands folded in his lap.

He didn’t have long to wait. As the sunlight made its way to where he was sitting, a shadow appeared in the doorway. It was a young boy, bald in head and small in stature, dressed in training robes and panting a bit.

“Good morning, Omi,” the figure said quietly.

“Good morning, Master Fung!” the boy got out between breaths. “Dojo - hah - said that you wished to speak to me?”

“Indeed.” The older monk inclined his head and gestured to the floor in front of him. “Please, sit. There is something I must tell you.”

Omi sat, practically bouncing in place with anticipation. “What is it?” he asked eagerly, leaning forward. “New training? A new technique? Oh! Are you finally going to teach me the Flying Crane Hokkaido Masher Move?!”

“Calm yourself, young monk. Remember, it is the quietest waters that bring the most fish.”

“Yes, Master.” The younger monk settled down, but he could not hold back a fidget or two of anticipation as he waited for his teacher’s news.

Master Fung took a deep breath, studying the young boy in front of him. “Omi,” he said, and his student’s eyes snapped to his immediately. “You have lived here at the temple for nine years now. You have learned much in your time here. And you have learned it all alone, with no other students beside you.”

Omi tilted his head to the side, perplexed. “Of course,” he said. “The temple does not often accept new students.”

“This is true,” Master Fung acknowledged, “but you are a special case. I have told you, in the past, that you have been chosen to become a Xiaolin Dragon of the Water.”

Omi’s chest swelled with pride, as it usually did when reminded of his Chosen One status, and he nodded.

“What I did not tell you,” Master Fung continued, “is that you were not meant to be the  _ only _ chosen Dragon. There were supposed to be others - other students, to train alongside you and, eventually, become Dragons as well.”

“Other Chosen Ones?” Omi echoed. His eyes grew huge. “But - but I thought  _ I _ was the Chosen One!”

“You are. That has not changed. But you were never meant to be the only one.” Master Fung shifted a bit, still holding Omi’s gaze. “There have been many elemental Xiaolin Dragons at this temple since its founding. Sometimes as few as three. Sometimes as many as six. But never only one.”

Omi frowned. “What about Grand Master Dashi?”

“Grand Master Dashi did not wield an element, not so far as we are aware. Even if he had, he did not train here alone. He had companions, just as you were meant to.” Master Fung took a breath. “You might have noticed that Dojo and I have been scarce these last few months.”

Omi nodded absently, his mind still caught on the idea of  _ Grand Master Dashi  _ having  _ training companions. _

“We were searching for the other Chosen Ones. Usually, when one manifests, there are others waiting to be discovered. But it has been nine years, and there has been no sign of them. By now, their powers should have begun to manifest. Dojo should be able to sense them just as easily as he sensed your powers when you arrived here. But there has been nothing.”

“Perhaps they simply need a bit more time!” Omi offered. “They may be, as Dojo says, late sprouters!”

“Perhaps,” Fung acknowledged. “We will certainly be ready for them, should they ever reveal themselves. But in the meantime, we must focus on the Dragon that we have, and not the Dragons that we do not. Your training will continue on as usual, and soon you will begin studying your element properly.”

Omi’s face lit up, and he leaped to his feet. “Yes! I will not disappoint you, Master Fung! I will train and study and work hard until I am the greatest Xiaolin Dragon of all time!”

“I have no doubt of that,” Master Fung said, “but you must have patience. A mighty oak tree may grow from a tiny seed, but it takes more than sunshine and water. It takes time.”

“Of course, of course.” But it was clear that the young Dragon-in-training had his mind on other things as he bounced eagerly on his toes, shifting from one leg to the other.

Master Fung sighed. “Go and begin your morning exercises, young monk. I will join you shortly for today’s lesson.”

Omi needed no further prompting. In a flash of red robes he was out the door, departing so abruptly that the chimes hanging from the ceiling were left swinging in his wake.

The elderly monk sighed again. When he stood, it was with none of the enthusiasm that his student had displayed. He moved slowly, deliberately, and with a non-negligible amount of trepidation.

“Any particular reason why you left out the whole thing about elemental Dragons only showing up when some great evil arises, or…?”

Master Fung glanced up. “Hello, Dojo. I apologize if we disturbed your rest.”

Down one of the pillars slithered a dragon. Small and thin, one could mistake him for a common snake or simple lizard, if not for the bright light of intelligence in his eyes and the purposeful way in which he carried himself. “Don’t sweat it,” the dragon yawned. “I’ve been up a while already.” He hopped off the pillar and landed with a light thump on Master Fung’s left shoulder. “So, why didn’t you warn him?”

“He’s still just a child,” Master Fung said, gazing out of the open doors to where he could see Omi going through his daily exercises with a marked sense of purpose. “I see no reason to frighten him. It could be that the Dragons of this time were not meant to awaken at all, and that we were merely lucky enough to have found him when we did.”

“Or,” Dojo muttered, “the great evil that the Dragons are supposed to fight got to the others first. Or something got messed up, and they all lost their powers somehow.”

“Or, perhaps, fate has other plans for these Dragons.” Master Fung raised his hand to stroke a soothing path along Dojo’s ruffled scales. “Only time will tell. For now, as I told our young student, we must focus on what we have, and not what we do not.”

“Here’s hoping it’ll be enough,” Dojo said darkly.

Master Fung stared out at the yard and chose not to respond.


	2. Seven Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I'm really blown away by the response to this fic so far! I wasn't expecting much, so big thanks to everyone who left kudos, a bookmark, or a comment!
> 
> We're getting into the actual AU now, so I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Special shout out to Likefiftychai, who was my beta for this chapter.

“For the last _time,_ I told them we were going with the black tile!”

21-year-old Jack Spicer popped open the front door of his family home with his hip, wearing a thunderous expression. He was lanky and long-limbed, but of average height; his bright red hair was carefully spiked up with just enough hairgel to keep it up without looking gunky and his eyes, sans liner, were sharp behind a sleek pair of black square-framed glasses. He wore a black blazer hanging open over a dark gray button-down shirt, along with black dress pants and black sneakers. He pressed a cell phone to one ear, still frowning as he shrugged his jacket off one-handed and hung it on a hook by the door. 

“Because I _like_ black! And tile’s going to be a better investment in the long run. Less fire risk, easier to clean - I fail to see the problem here.”

He paused to listen to the speaker on the other end of the line, leaning up against the dining room wall. 

“What? Did you see our profit margin last quarter? I think we can spare a little extra for this.” He tapped his fingers impatiently against the wall. “Look, who’s the boss here, me or you?” Pause. “I don’t _care_ what the board says!”

A shadow passed in front of him, and Jack glanced up. A robot hovered there in front of him, a robot built in the shape of a man’s head and upper torso. Its sculpted tin “hair” was shaped to appear perfectly coiffed, and while its wide-set eyes and broad smile were somewhat disconcerting, it gave off the impression of being mostly harmless. It bobbed up and down in front of Jack, waiting silently for him to acknowledge it.

Jack sighed. “Look,” he said into the phone, “I gotta go. I got more important stuff to handle right now. Just, I don’t know, come up with some kind of official-sounding accountant jargon to get the board off my back and _don’t_ let them put that carpet in.” He hit the “end call” button without waiting for a reply and turned his attention to the waiting robot. “What’s the status, Yes-Bot?”

“Well, Jack,” the robot said brightly, “things are coming along just _great!_ Everything is _juuust_ about right on schedule!”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Numbers, Yes-Bot. Give me hard data.”

The robot’s cheery smile didn’t falter. “Right-o! Current statistics are: 23.5 boxes packed! 67.2% floor area clear! 5 rolls of packing tape depleted! 126 hi- _lar-_ i-ous jokes by Jackbot #352-“

“What’s left to pack?” Jack cut in, interrupting what was sure to be an exhaustive list of robot knock-knock jokes.

Yes-Bot beeped. “Well, let’s see…2 cabinets of spare components, 3 console units, one large ergonomic swivel chair, one 78-inch plasma screen TV, 22 file folders of blueprints, and one UNDEFINED.“

Jack’s attention had drifted back down to his phone. He glanced up. “Sorry, what was that last one?”

“UNDEFINED,” Yes-Bot repeated. “Sorry, Jack! Seems like there’s no word for it in my database!”

“I loaded your language program with a _bajillion_ words. How can you not have a word for it?”

Yes-Bot shrugged. “I sure don’t know, Jack! But I tell you what, it’s pretty fascinating, whatever it is! Everyone was just _staring_ at it when I left to come up here.”

“What?!” Jack stuffed his phone into his pocket and walked past the hovering bot, making a beeline for the door hanging open on the other side of the living room. He shouldered his way though it and began descending the metal staircase beyond.

His evil lair - former lair, now - was in a state of controlled chaos. Half-packed cardboard boxes were strewn about the room and heaps of packing peanuts littered the ground like oddly-shaped snow drifts. The room was filled with Jackbots - Jackbots who _should_ have been packing and cataloguing and moving furniture, but were instead all clustered around the table in the center of the room. Jack dragged a hand down his face, jostling his glasses.

“Okay, okay, break it up!” he barked as he reached the bottom of the stairs. “What’s gotten into you guys? We have a _deadline_ to meet, y’know! All this stuff has to be outta here by tomorrow, so would you all kindly _get your tin rears in gear?”_ He shoved through the crowd of robots, weaving his way up to the table where sat...

“…A box?” Jack picked it up. _“This_ is what’s got you all wound up?” He turned to look up at Yes-Bot, who was slowly drifting down the stairs. “What, you didn’t have the word ‘box’ in your database?”

Yes-Bot blinked. “Is that what it was? Whoopsie-daisy! Sorry about that, Jack! My sensors must’ve gone on the ol’ fritz again.”

Jack frowned. Yes-Bot’s sensors definitely weren’t on the fritz - he’d just run diagnostics that morning. He glanced down at the box in his hand. Funny, he didn’t remember ever seeing it before. It was a weird-looking box, too. It looked like one of the trick puzzle boxes he’d liked to play around with as a kid. No visible latch or lock or opening mechanism, but he could see panels and pieces that looked like they were meant to slide around. Wooden, looked hand-carved, and old. Really old. And something about it just felt…off. His fingers tingled where they rested against the wood. He held it up to his ear and shook it. No sound. Huh. Probably empty, then.

“Where did you guys find this thing?” he asked the nearest Jackbot. It beeped and gestured to a shadowy corner of the room, which was currently occupied by a small mountain of boxes. Another Jackbot beeped behind him, and when he turned around it pressed a creased scrap of brown paper into his hand. He turned it over - oh. There was his address, and his name, and a return address. But no return name.

“It was wrapped in this?” he asked the bot. It beeped an affirmation. Huh. So it’d been a gift from someone. He must’ve forgotten to open it. Jack glanced back at the shipping label, peering at it closely for more clues. Still no name or anything, but he did spot a faded postmark that dated the package back about seven years.

“Maybe Dad sent it,” he muttered. His dad _had_ still been in that whole “let’s buy our kid’s affection” phase back then, and an old puzzle box was the kind of barely-adjacent-to-Jack’s-interests present that he usually defaulted to. Jack had grown out of his puzzle obsession in middle school, but puzzles were still fun to play around with. He still had a couple of brainteaser puzzles he kept in his suit pocket to fidget with during boring meetings at work. He tossed the box from hand to hand, and then looked up. The Jackbots were still there, watching him.

“Okay, back to work! I told you guys, we’re on a tight schedule.” He waved his arms, shooing the Jackbots back to their assigned tasks. “Yes-Bot, give me a list of those blueprint folders we haven’t packed yet, I’ll stop you whenever I hear one that’s got to be tossed.”

The Jackbots all slowly drifted away as Yes-Bot came bobbing over, beaming as usual. “Right-o, Jack-o! The blueprints left to pack are: Anti-Gravity Boots, Applesauce Cannon-“

“Oh man. Toss.” Jack leaned up against the table, absentmindedly fiddling with the puzzle box in his hands.

“Gotcha! Big-Ass Blaster, Crab-O-Matic-“

“Crab…what? Pff. _Toss.”_ The puzzle didn’t really seem that difficult. He’d seen some online that had, like, fifty steps; this one had maybe four or five. He slid the first panel into place, twisted the box around like a Rubik’s cube, and started searching for the next step as Yes-Bot continued to rattle off blueprint names.

“…Jackbot Mark II, Jackbot Mark VII, Jackbot Mark IX…”

“Toss Mark VII,” Jack said absently. “Those shoulder pads were a huge mistake.” Ah! There! A barely-visible seam on the side. He slid that panel out and moved back up to the top. There was just one piece left holding the two parts of the lid in place, but it wouldn’t budge. There must be something stopping it…

“JuiceBot, Laundrinator, Mombot V. 2.0…”

Yes-Bot’s words washed over him, failing to register as Jack scrutinized the box for clues. He was wholly engrossed, the task at hand forgotten. He was so close to cracking this thing, he just needed to find - oh! There, on the lid. Another piece, carved so expertly as to be nearly invisible, was holding the key piece in place. Jack slid it out of the way, slid the key piece back, and swallowed heavily.

The box was unlocked. It shouldn’t be a big deal - it was just some old piece of junk that had been sitting in his basement for seven years - but for some reason he couldn’t place, it felt like it _was_ a big deal. Jack felt weirdly anxious. Jittery. His fingers trembled a little, but he got hold of the lid and cracked it open.

No big deal. It was almost definitely empty.

* * *

“Master Fung! _Master Fung!”_

The sound of pounding footsteps echoed through the halls of the Xiaolin Temple, a frantic rhythm beat against the ancient tile and worn wooden floors. A black-robed figure tore through the ancient corridors, robe flapping, feet pounding. It was the middle of the night, but the frantically fleeing figure seemed unaware.

“Master Fung!” The cry sounded out into the night now, sailing across the temple grounds as the figure cut across the courtyard. The main hall of the temple rose up before it, but the figure didn’t break stride for even a second; it launched itself into a smooth, high leap that brought it up to the roof of the building and then hopped down to the other side as if merely leaping over a log.

The door to the meditation temple sprang open and the figure burst through. “Master Fung!”

But the temple was dark and deserted, save for the dragon curled up in front of the pot in the center of the room.

“Omi?” Dojo lifted his head and yawned. “What’s the big idea, kiddo? I was tryin’ to sleep.”

“Where is Master Fung?” Omi demanded. Now sixteen, he carried himself with a confident air and his frame, while short and stocky, radiated with a powerful energy that spoke of years of intense, focused training. His robes were the black, red, and gold that denoted his recently-attained Shoku status. 

“Master Fung?” Dojo squinted at him, eyes bleary. “Sleeping, probably. Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“The time does not matter!” Omi hopped from foot to foot, growing increasingly agitated with every passing second. “Did you not sense it? Can you not feel that a great evil has arisen?!”

Dojo yawned. “Kid, all I feel is sleepy.” He burped. “And a little indigestion, but it’s probably those leftover dumplings I had for dinner.”

“This is not indigestion!” Omi tossed his hands into the air. His sleeves billowed with the motion. “I have sensed great evil! I must speak to Master Fung at once! I must warn him-!”

“Omi, _Omi!”_ Dojo slithered over to him and tugged sharply on the hem of his robe. “Calm down! I told you, I’m sure it’s nothing! You probably just had a bad dream.”

The teenaged monk scowled at him. “How can you be so sure that it is nothing?! You just want to go back to sleep!”

“True, true,” the dragon let out another yawn, “but look at it this way. If it _were_ something, you wouldn’t be the only one to sense it, right? There’d be, I don’t know, some kinda commotion. And you _know_ that Master Fung would be all over it. Right? But he’s not. So it’s nothing.”

“But-!” Omi protested, and would have continued further had the wooden doors behind him not burst open at that moment.

“There you are!” Master Fung stood in the doorway, his arms still outstretched to hold the doors ajar. His beard was unbrushed and his clothes in disarray. “You must both come with me at once!”

“You see!” Omi jabbed a triumphant finger in Dojo’s direction. “It is not nothing! I _told_ you-“

“ _Now,_ Omi.”

The urgency in his mentor’s tone brought Omi up short, and he turned on his heel to leave without another word. Dojo scampered alongside him, hurrying to catch up with Master Fung as the elder monk began to lead them across the temple grounds.

“What’s going on?” Dojo demanded. He leapt forward, grabbing on to the hem of Master Fung’s robe with his claws and hauling himself up as if climbing a wall. He scaled the old monk’s back with practiced ease and settled into his customary perch atop Fung’s shoulders. “Where’s the fire?”

“It is best if you see for yourselves,” Master Fung replied. His words were clipped, his tone terse, and his eyes bright with apprehension.

“I sensed a great evil!” Omi piped up, falling into step beside him. “Is that why-?”

“Most likely, yes.” Master Fung barely glanced at him. “I will explain in further detail when we get there.”

“Where?” Dojo and Omi asked together.

“Here.”

“Here” was a stout building near the edge of the temple compound. Omi blinked up at it. “The library?”

“The library!” Dojo yelped. “You mean-?”

“Yes,” Master Fung said gravely, even as he strode inside without slowing his pace. “Something has disturbed the Shen Gong Wu.” He came to a stop before an open doorway. “See for yourselves.”

With a nervous glance to his mentor, Omi took a breath and stepped into the room; Dojo hopped onto his shoulder as he did. The room, ordinarily quiet and empty, was a hive of activity. It was filled with elderly monks, all speaking in hushed voices and hastily-dressed in their daily robes, with the exception of one elder who was still in his pajamas. They were anxiously chattering amongst themselves, casting fearful eyes at the table by the room’s only window, upon which lay a scroll.

Omi knew this scroll well. It was the scroll of the Shen Gong Wu, one of the few artifacts that Grandmaster Dashi had left at the temple before his death. He knew, of course, that it was tied to the Shen Gong Wu and that it held information on every last one of Dashi’s creations, but for as long as he’d known, it had been just another scroll in a temple of many: lifeless paper and ink bound up in a bulky metal case. 

Now, however, it was open. It was _glowing._ And its ink was not so lifeless; the illustrations and characters were swirling over the surface like the currents of a stream.

“Ooh, that’s not good.” Dojo hopped down from Omi’s shoulder and gingerly approached the scroll. He jabbed it carefully with a finger, but nothing happened; the scroll continued to glow and its contents continued to swirl. Dojo winced. “That’s _really_ not good. I haven’t seen this thing so agitated since-since Dashi made it!”

“What does that mean?” Omi asked. His heart was pounding, his stomach tied up in knots: whether from fear or from excitement, he couldn’t say.

“It means,” Master Fung said from behind him, “that the Shen Gong Wu have awoken. _All_ of them. Not merely one or two, as has happened in times past.”

“But,” Omi said. His heart beat faster. “But the only thing that could cause that - the only thing that could shift the balance _that much_ , is if-“

“-is if Wuya were awakened,” Master Fung finished for him. He stepped fully into the room. “I had hoped this would not come to pass, not without first locating our missing elemental Dragons. But we must not allow ourselves to be shackled by the chains of fear and uncertainty.” He placed a hand on Omi’s shoulder. “If Wuya has returned, we must prepare. _You_ must prepare, Omi. You may be our only defense against her.”

Omi grinned.

* * *

So, okay, there had been some screaming.

Jack didn’t think anyone could blame him for that, really. Seriously, who _wouldn’t_ scream if a ghost popped up in their face out of nowhere? Wasn’t that kind of the entire point of horror movies?

Only this wasn’t a horror movie. This was his life. And it was still happening.

“So, er, ‘Wuya,’ right? Can you run all that by me again?” he said, keeping his arms folded over his chest. He was going for “vaguely bored,” but the effect might have been ruined a little by how rapidly he was drumming his fingers against his arms. And also the fact that he’d been screaming just a few minutes earlier. But it was okay. He was okay. It was _fine._

The ghost - he still wasn’t entirely _sure_ she was a ghost, she _could_ be some kind of proprietary hologram technology sent in by one of his competitors to psyche him out - scowled. “I have explained myself twice already,” she said, in a tone that could have frozen lava. “I fail to see why I should explain myself to you a third time.”

“Right, right.” Jack waved a hand in a gesture that he dearly hoped came across as casual. “I’m just having a little trouble wrapping my head around - you said you’re after these, what, magic doohickeys that’ll let you take over the world?”

The ghost hissed, a raspy noise that reminded Jack a little bit of the sensation of scraping nails on a chalkboard. Not the _sound,_ just the _sensation._ “If you want to put it in a _simpleton’s_ terms, then yes. The Shen Gong Wu would indeed grant me such power.”

“And you can’t get them yourself, because…?”

The ghost glared at him. “Why do you think?” She made a deliberate swipe at the table with one of her ghostly...hands? Tendrils? Whatever it was, it passed right through the table.

“Yeah, got it.” Feigning a casual attitude was getting easier the longer he did it. It was just like faking it for a room full of reporters or for a pushy investor, only this one was see-through and had a spooky mask for a face. Jack tilted his head to the side, adjusted his glasses, and let a little bit of the glazed look he usually reserved for board meetings slip into his eyes. “What I don’t get is why I should _care._ What’s in it for me?”

“World conquest!” The ghost flung her arms wide and bared her painted-on teeth in a grin. “Once I have regained my power, you and I shall rule side by side. The very earth shall crumble beneath our feet!”

“Uh-huh.” Jack glanced down and brushed an imaginary piece of lint off his right shirt sleeve. “Yeah, I’ll pass on that. World domination isn’t really my thing these days.”

“What?” The ghost stared at him, her grin falling away to a frown.

“You heard me.” Jack extended a hand, inspecting his nails. 

“Surely you _must_ be joking.” The ghost floated up to him, getting all up in his personal space; Jack, by some miracle of self control, did not flinch. “I sense the touch of evil in you, boy. The ambition, the thirst for power - what are these machines, if not minions to do your bidding? What is this place, if not a lair from which to plot your meteoric rise to power?”

Jack took a discreet step away from the ghost - “spooky mask thing” was a _powerful_ odor, apparently - and let out a laugh. “Man,” he said, “did _you_ ever miss the bus.”

“The what?”

Jack continued on as if the ghost hadn’t spoken. “See, yeah, I _used_ to be into the whole ‘world domination’ thing,” he held up his hands to make air quotes, “but that was _years_ ago. And I wasn’t ever any _good_ at it. My bots are cool and all, but I’d have been lucky to take over a _city,_ let alone the whole world. So I moved on, found better ways to put my genius to work.” He gestured to the room around them. “This here? I’m just cleaning out my old lab. I got a new one waiting for me in a brand-new building _with my name on it.”_ The pride in his voice wasn’t an exaggeration; he’d worked _hard_ to get his company off the ground.

The ghost sputtered. “But-! You have no idea what I am offering you! The power! The riches!”

“Pfuh,” Jack scoffed, “I got plenty of that stuff already, and plenty more to come. I don’t need any magic thingamabobs to help with that.” He glanced back at the ghost. “And I definitely don’t need any smelly ghosts hanging around and stinking up my new office.”

The ghost swelled up. “How _dare-!”_ and Jack _did_ flinch this time, just a tiny bit, because suddenly the overhead light was flickering and the ghost was getting _bigger_ and okay, yeah, maybe ticking off a supernatural phenomenon wasn’t one of his better ideas.

The ghost advanced on him, growing bigger and more menacing by the second, and then she abruptly froze in midair. Her weird, swirly-pupiled eyes began glowing with an ethereal light, and Jack took a hasty step back on the off chance that she might explode or something.  
  
“A Shen Gong Wu has just revealed itself,” the ghost intoned, her voice deep and resonant.  
  
Jack felt it buzzing in his chest and made a face at the sensation. It tickled. “What,” he said, placing a hand over his sternum to try and stem the vibrations. “One of your magical thingamajiggers?”

The ghost turned to glare at him with her glowing eyes. “Yes,” she hissed. “The Mantis Flip Coin. It allows its user to perform feats of great agility, to hop about like a mantis.”  
  
“Huh. Can’t say I’ve ever seen a mantis hop.” Jack grabbed hold of a chair that hadn’t yet been packed and threw himself into it with a flourish, tipping it back and propping his legs up on the table. “Have fun with that, I guess. I’m sure it’ll be _way_ easier to take over the world when you can do a triple backflip or whatever.”

The glow faded from the ghost’s eyes, and she looked confused. “Do you truly hold _no_ interest in this Shen Gong Wu?”  
  
Jack peered up at her. “...No? Why would I? Even if everything you’re telling me is true, why would _I_ ever need a magic thingy to make me jump better? Not like I do a lot of jumping in my day to day. And, come on, do you really expect me to believe that a flippy coin thing is gonna grant me the power to take over the world?”

“It is only the first of many!” Now the ghost looked more peeved than confused. “There are hundreds of Shen Gong Wu, and each one holds more power than the last! Their collection is _vital_ to my plans!”

“Well, then.” Jack folded his arms behind his head. “You better go get that coin, or find someone else who will. Because I’ll say it plainly this time: I’m. Not. Interested.”

The ghost hissed at him. “You are a _fool,_ boy. You cannot _fathom_ the magnitude of the mistake you’re making.”

“Blah, blah, door’s that way.” Jack waved a hand in the direction of the stairs. “Or there’s four perfectly serviceable walls here, too, if you wanna do the ghost thing.”  
  
The ghost cast one last scalding glare at him and flew straight up, passing through the tangle of wires and cables above them and vanishing from view.  
  
“Oh, I guess the ceiling’s an option too,” Jack said to the empty air, “if you wanna be _predictable.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jack: Evil? I'm a capitalist. You can't get any eviller than that.


	3. The Mantis Flip Coin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And on we go!
> 
> Thanks to MalkyTop for checking this one over for me!

“The Mantis Flip Coin is  _ here?” _ Omi asked, staring with wide eyes at the colorful, chaotic city around him.

“Yeah,” Dojo said, making himself comfortable on Omi’s shoulder. “But I gotta tell you, this place wasn’t  _ anything _ like this when Dashi and I hid it here. I guess a lot can change in fifteen hundred years, huh?”   
  
“Indeed.” Omi took a cautious step out of the alleyway they’d landed in, out into the street proper. It bustled with people: people hawking food and trinkets, people scurrying from store to store, people standing in the middle of the sidewalk to take photographs. There was a loud clanging sound, and a bright red trolley car hurtled past on a nearby street. Omi stared for a minute, somewhat overwhelmed, and then he shook his head and drew himself up. “Well! We shall find it most easily, I am sure! This task shall be a simple one for a Xiaolin Dragon!”   
  
“You’re not a Dragon yet, kiddo,” Dojo reminded him. “You only just made Shoku a couple weeks ago.”   
  
Omi gave him a dirty look.   
  
“Hey, I’m not knocking your progress!” Dojo put both his hands up defensively. “Making Shoku at  _ all _ is a big accomplishment, especially when you’re an elemental Dragon training on your own.”

“On my own?” Omi began to make his way up the sloping street, casting his eyes about for any sign of the Mantis Flip Coin. “What do you mean by that, Dojo?”

“Oh, uh. Master Fung never mentioned?” Dojo frowned. “Elemental Dragons draw a lot of their power from each other. They’re a lot stronger when they train together and work as a team. That’s partially why we always train them in groups.” He patted Omi’s shoulder. “So the fact that you’ve been able to progress this far in your training by yourself is really impressive!”

“Hm.” Omi stopped in front of a cluttered curio shop window to peer inside, ignoring the people who gave him curious glances as they passed. “So you are saying that I could become stronger if I were to find our missing Chosen Ones?”   
  
“Uh, I guess. That’s not exactly what I was saying but…”   
  
“Excellent!” Omi straightened up. “Then I shall keep a most vigilant watch for other elemental Dragons while we quest for the Shen Gong Wu!”   
  
“Whoa, whoa, hey, kid.” Dojo stuck his head out to catch Omi’s eye, his expression serious. “Look, I get that you’re excited, and you want to find the others, but...I mean, Master Fung and I  _ looked. _ We looked  _ hard. _ We couldn’t find anything. Granted, that was a while ago, but even if the other Chosen Ones  _ are _ out there somewhere, they’re not going to be ready to fight if you find them. Unless they’ve all been training in Xiaolin Temples for the last 16 years too.” He paused. “Which, uh, they’re not. We checked.”   
  
“Then I shall train them!” Omi stepped away from the curio shop and trotted on up the street. “And under my tutelage, they shall become most powerful! We will become the greatest Xiaolin Dragons of all time, and I will lead us all to victory!”   
  
“I admire the optimism, but - wait, whoa whoa whoa, hold on! Hit the brakes!”   
  
Omi skidded to a stop outside of a dimly lit gap between two buildings. “What? What is it?”

“The Mantis Flip Coin!” Dojo jabbed a finger at the gap. “I think it’s down there.”   
  
Omi frowned, peering down the length of the cluttered alley Dojo had indicated with no small amount of suspicion. “Are you certain, Dojo?”

“About as much as I can be,” Dojo said, digging his claws into the fabric of Omi’s robe. “I told you, this place has changed a  _ lot _ .” He coiled himself a little tighter around Omi’s neck. “Can we pick up the pace a little? We’ve gotta make sure we find it before someone else does.”

Omi stepped into the shadows of the alley. “Are there others seeking the Shen Gong Wu? I did not think they were known outside of the Xiaolin Temple.”

“Oh, believe me, if there aren’t now there  _ will  _ be.” Dojo grimaced. “That’s the problem with magic like this. It tends to draw people out of the woodwork. Hopefully we won’t have to deal with anything more than a couple of amateur Heylin wizards or some small-time thieves.”    
  
The alley was full of trashcans, dumpsters, and cardboard boxes, and it smelled strongly of day-old takeout. Omi stepped around an empty pizza box and cast his gaze around for anything out of the ordinary.    
  
Deep within the alley, something moved.

“What was that?” Dojo hissed. Omi frowned and moved towards it.   
  
“Hello?” he called. The alley did not respond. The nine dots on Omi’s forehead began glowing. “I know you are there. Show yourself!”

Silence. Then a raspy voice came from the shadows. “If you insist, Xiaolin Warrior.”

One of the shadows detached itself from the wall and floated forward, slowly becoming visible in what little light there was. Dojo recoiled in horror.   
  
_ “Wuya!”  _ he gasped. 

Omi blinked.  _ “That _ is Wuya?” The temple scrolls he’d grown up studying had always portrayed a beautiful woman, tall and pointy-eared and crackling with unearthly power. This purple, floating, masked creature was not at all what he’d been expecting.

Wuya sneered at him. “I see your precious temple has taught you no manners, boy.” She floated closer, looming large in the cramped alley.    
  
Omi took up a battle stance, frowning severely. On his shoulder, Dojo was anxiously scanning their surroundings, but Omi kept his gaze fixed on the Heylin witch in front of him. “If you have come for the Mantis Flip Coin,” he said, “then prepare to suffer a most humiliating defeat!”

Wuya bared her teeth. “I would watch your tone, Xiaolin Warrior. You will not find me so easy to defeat, nor will you find the Mantis Flip Coin so easy to procure.”   
  
Omi clenched his fist. “What did you do with it?” he demanded as Dojo slipped from his shoulders.

Wuya’s laughter was a dry, crackling sort of sound, the kind that made Omi’s throat hurt to hear. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she sneered. “You can only  _ dream _ of finding it now, you-”

“Got it!” Dojo piped up, popping out of the shadows with a small metal disk clutched in his claws. The smile slid from Wuya’s face.

“Dojo!” Omi held out a hand, snatching the coin away as soon as Dojo held it out. “How did you find it?”

“It was sitting on top of one of the dumpsters,” Dojo said. He glanced up at Omi’s bewildered expression and snorted. “Don’t tell me you actually believed her.”

Omi blinked. “Believed...? She was lying?”

“Yeah, it was a bluff.” Dojo hopped back onto Omi’s shoulder and jabbed a claw at the seething ghost in front of them. “Not a bad bluff, Wuya, but maybe next time you should bring some muscle to back you up!”

“Bold words, pest,” Wuya snarled. “You wouldn’t be half so impertinent without a Xiaolin Warrior to hide behind.”

“And you’d be a lot more intimidating with a body,” Dojo shot back. He tugged Omi’s collar. “Come on, kiddo. We should get back. Master Fung’s going to be pretty happy to hear how easy this was!”

“Fools!” Wuya’s shriek filled the alley as Omi obligingly turned to leave. “You think you’ve bested me? You have only postponed your own humiliation!”

“Don’t look back,” Dojo muttered into Omi’s ear. “Just go. Just go!”

Omi went, slipping back out into the colorfully crowded streets of San Francisco, ducking and weaving through the crowd until Wuya’s cries of rage were swallowed by the sounds of the city.

“I do not understand!” he said to Dojo as they made their way to a less-conspicuous area from which to take flight. “Why did she not attack us?”

Dojo snorted. “She  _ couldn’t, _ ” he said. “When Dashi trapped her in that puzzle box, he stripped her of her powers and her body. Without those, she’s pretty much just a bunch of hot air. Loud, stinky hot air.” He tapped a claw against his lower lip. “I’m kind of surprised she didn’t show up with someone to do the heavy lifting for her. Maybe they were fresh out at Minions R Us.”

“We should not let our guard down, then,” Omi said, making a leap for the side of a nearby building. His hands and feet easily found purchase in the weathered brick, and he began scaling the building as effortlessly as one might ascend a flight of stairs. “Perhaps she was merely attempting to lure us into a false sense of confidence, only to strike when our backs are turned!” He turned back, scanning the city streets below. “Perhaps she has had an accomplice following us all along!”

“Then why would she have let us take the Wu?” Dojo asked. “Pretty sure she knows where the temple is, so she doesn’t need to follow us back, and this is the first one that’s gone active, so she can’t steal any others from us. No, I think she really was alone back there.” He slid off Omi’s shoulders as they reached the top of the building. “You’re right about one thing, though,” he said, and shifted into his larger size. “We shouldn’t let our guards down. She might be alone now, but that won’t last.”

Omi hopped onto Dojo’s back. “I will be ready,” he vowed. “Powers or no powers, no evil shall stand against me!”

“Love the enthusiasm, kid,” Dojo said. “Let’s just hope we can get the next one before she finds herself a friend.”


	4. Minions R Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far, Jack and Wuya's dynamic is my favorite thing to write in this AU.
> 
> This one's unbetaed, so please let me know if you catch any mistakes!
> 
> I am also thinking about starting a blog for this AU, to post things like character designs, deleted scenes, and various worldbuilding stuff that doesn't make it into the fics. If you'd be interested in seeing that, let me know!

Wuya was, in a word, frustrated.

The Two-Ton Tunic had been as miserable a loss as the Mantis Flip Coin. It had been  _ right there, _ out in the open, so  _ tantalizingly  _ close, and she’d only been able to watch helplessly as that Xiaolin monk waltzed in, snatched it up, and hitched a ride on a passing gondola. Without a flesh-and-blood lackey, Wuya was as dangerous as a light breeze.

She’d been  _ trying _ to search out a worthy minion, but so far she’d had no luck. The ranks of the Heylin were thin these days, and there were no evildoers out making names for themselves. She’d heard whispers here and there - something about a ninja for hire, a thief with shapeshifting abilities, a magical mime - but her attempts to investigate the rumors had proved fruitless. Things just couldn’t be as easy as they’d used to be, no. The days of simply seeking out a potential minion and speaking to them plainly were long gone; nowadays, everyone had  _ telephones  _ and  _ electronic mail  _ and something called a  _ craig list. _ Wuya was loath to admit that it was all a bit beyond her, not to mention that her lack of a physical form was…  _ prohibitive. _

So here she was again, back at the home of the buffoon that had set her free. It was as good a place as any to plot her next step, even if the boy had so foolishly rejected her offer.  _ Why _ he’d rejected it, she could not fathom. She had sensed the touch of evil within him, the potential to become a powerful force for the Heylin Side. And yet, he seemed determined to resist it. How  _ pathetic. _

She sank into the ground just outside the building, moving towards the basement room where she had last seen the boy. When she emerged on the other side of the thick concrete walls, however, she was brought up short.   
  
The basement, which had been a bustling hive of activity when she’d been there last, was deserted. Completely desolate, with four bare walls and a bare cement floor and nothing but a few sparking wires dangling down from the ceiling to indicate that it had ever been anything but an empty room. 

She was too late. The mortal was gone.

_ “Blast _ it!” Wuya hissed, and if she’d had all her power her displeasure would have burnt a hole in the concrete floor. As it was, her magic was only enough to send a flicker through the room, sending up a small cascade of sparks from the exposed wires on the ceiling.

Wuya watched the sparks drift down to the floor, where they flickered and faded. Now what? She was out of leads. She had no corporeal hands with which to operate a computer or telephone, and recruiting an evil henchman was no longer a matter of a simple stroll down to the local tavern. Her only remaining option was simply to wander about until she’d found a suitable candidate. That, or attempt to corrupt the lone Xiaolin monk standing in her way, which would be a nigh-impossible task with that accursed dragon hanging off him at every moment.   
  
Heaving out a long-suffering sigh of resignation, Wuya turned to leave. That was when she heard the telltale creak of an opening door, and turned back just in time to see that foolish, damnable mortal boy descending the stairs, brandishing a heavy wrench in one hand.   
  
“Oh,” the mortal said, stopping on the third step down and lowering his wrench. “It’s just you. I thought we might have rats getting at the wiring again.”   
  
_ “Just _ me?” Wuya hissed, affronted. “Watch your tongue, boy! I will not stand for such disrespect!”   
  
The mortal, who had resumed his descent, waved his free hand dismissively. Wuya realized that he was no longer clothed in the respectable-looking suit she’d seen him in the day before, but in a loose-fitting cotton shirt with the words “BIG SEXY” printed upon it and baggy, rainbow-plaid short pants. How tacky.    
  
“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “What’re you doing back here, anyway? I thought you’d be off doing flips with your coin thing or whatever.”

Wuya scowled. “Regrettably,” she said, “the Xiaolin Warriors got to it first.” She chose not to mention that there was only one monk, or that he’d gotten the Two-Ton Tunic as well.

The mortal blinked. “The who huh what now?”

“The Xiaolin Warriors!” Wuya snarled. “The foolish do-gooders that have plagued me for the last 1500 years and reduced me to this  _ pathetic _ state.” She bared her ghostly teeth in a furious grimace. 

The mortal, now standing at the bottom of the stairs and leaning against the banister, looked at her with the closest thing to genuine interest she'd seen from him since her release. “Wait,” he said. “You mean other people know about these magic thingamajigs? These...warrior guys are after them too?”

Incompetent, foolish,  _ ignorant _ boy. “Of course,” Wuya sniffed. “That is their purpose. The Shen Gong Wu were created to oppose me, and the Xiaolin are sworn to their protection.”

“Huh.” The mortal scratched his head with the wrench, ruffling his uncombed hair into further disarray. “Y’know, you could have mentioned that earlier.”

Wuya leveled an unimpressed look at him. “I assumed it went without saying. Any evildoer worth their salt knows of the Xiaolin Warriors.”

The mortal sighed, looking tired. “Lady, we covered that already. I'm no evildoer. I’m just a guy who likes robots, all right?”   
  
“A pity. You could be so much  _ more _ than that.” Wuya drifted closer to him, sensing an opportunity. “I sense great potential for evil within you. Were you to indulge it, you could become  _ quite _ an asset for the Heylin side.”   
  
“I don’t know how much clearer I can make this!” The mortal tossed his hands into the air. “I’m done with evil! I’ve  _ been _ done with it for like  _ five years! _ So just lay off, all right? I’ve got a  _ career _ now. I’ve  _ got _ fame and glory. Turns out I didn’t have to take over the world to get it.” He paused, and lowered his arms. “Though I guess dominating the tech industry is more or less the same thing, huh?”

Wuya, who only had a vague idea of what “tech” meant, merely grimaced. “So you  _ abandoned _ the way of evil for the sake of  _ financial profit.” _ She sniffed. “I should have surmised that you’d taken the coward’s path to power.”   
  
“Call me a coward all you want,” the mortal said, and used the wrench to gesture at her. “I call it ‘picking my battles.’ So I got sick of being laughed at. So sue me! Do you have any idea what it feels like to get a  _ form letter _ from the UN after you’ve sent them an ultimatum? Nobody was taking me seriously! Nobody even tried to  _ stop _ me!” He crossed his arms. “And honestly? I can’t blame them. I was a twerpy kid with like ten homemade robots to my name. I couldn’t have conquered a dang  _ city, _ let alone the world. At least when I started selling my ideas, people  _ listened. _ And now they love me! Why the heck would I give that up just to go back to being a big joke, huh?”   


Wuya sneered and opened her mouth for a blistering retort, but all that came out was a gasp as she felt the telltale surge of magic that indicated the activation of another Shen Gong Wu. She froze in midair, her eyes glowing with an unearthly, ethereal light.   
  
“Oh boy,” the mortal said. “Another one of your magic doohickeys?”   
  
“Yessss,” Wuya hissed. She could feel the Shen Gong Wu’s energy coursing through her, see its form take shape before her eyes. “The Eye of Dashi has revealed itself.”

“Goody.” He rolled his eyes. “What’s this one do, huh? Night vision? Some kinda glorified magnifying glass?”

“The Eye of Dashi,” Wuya intoned, “has the power to create a bolt of lightning with which to vanquish your foes.”

The wrench clattered to the floor. The mortal’s back straightened. His head snapped up. His eyes sharpened. “Come again?”

“The Eye of Dashi-” Wuya started, but the mortal waved his hand impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, did I just hear you say it makes _ electricity? _ Like, outta nowhere?”

The glow faded from Wuya’s eyes and she looked at him quizzically. “...Yes,” she said. “That is its function.”   
  
“So, like...how much electricity are we talking, exactly?” He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Like, a little? A lot? A metric fuckton?”

Wuya was not at all familiar with that last unit of measurement. “Not enough to kill,” she said. “Merely to stun.”   
  
“Right, but  _ how much of it? _ Like, how much can it actually  _ make?” _

She blinked. “As...much as you want.”

The mortal began pacing back and forth. “So you’re telling me this thing just...generates as much lightning as you want? Forever?”    
  
“Theoretically, yes–”

“Okay.” The mortal stopped in place and held up a hand. “Okay, you’ve sold me. I’ll go with you to pick it up. But  _ just  _ this once, all right? I’m not committing to anything here. We’re not partners.” He wheeled around and headed back up the stairs. “I’m going to go get dressed.” Midway up the stairs, he paused and looked back. “Where is this thing, anyway?”

Wuya focused for a moment, and then gestured off to the right. “That way,” she said.   
  
He squinted at the wall she’d gestured to, and then back to her. “That way,” he repeated. “Sure. Can you be more specific, or…?”

She glared at him, rising up and flaring her tendrils wide. “You  _ dare _ question my abilities?” she hissed. “My skill in locating the Shen Gong Wu is  _ unerring.” _

The whelp had the audacity, the sheer  _ impudence _ to  _ roll his eyes _ at her. “Slow your roll, lady,” he said. “Seriously, you can’t expect me to just take ‘that way’ as an answer. That doesn’t tell me anything! Can’t you give me, I dunno, some coordinates? Or,” he added at Wuya’s blank, uncomprehending expression, “at least give me an idea of how far away this thing is?”

“No,” Wuya said shortly.

“...Right.” He narrowed his eyes. “So I guess you just want me to follow you until we find it, huh?”

She bared her teeth in a nasty smile. “Unless you have a  _ better _ idea.”

The mortal grumbled to himself under his breath, and jabbed a finger in her direction. “You,” he said. “I don’t like you. Just so we’re clear.” Shaking his head, he turned back and resumed his ascension.    
  
“But you  _ will _ follow me,” Wuya said in her most imperious tone. “For I am the only one who knows the location of this Shen Gong Wu.”   
  
“Yeah,” floated from the top of the stairs, “But only because you’re my best lead on a freakin’  _ perpetual energy generator.  _ Don’t get cocky about it.”

Wuya decided that she had no real reason to obey the words of a post-pubescent whelp, so she proceeded to feel  _ quite _ cocky about it. 


	5. The Eye of Dashi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! The last part of this first installment. Please enjoy!
> 
> Thanks to CuriousCanine for betaing this one.

Omi was feeling pretty chipper.   
  
He now had not one, but  _ two _ Shen Gong Wu in his possession, and both of them plucked from under Wuya’s ghostly nose with the greatest ease. Even Dojo had been surprised when Wuya had showed up in Venice alone, still without a flesh-and-blood minion to aid her.

“It’s weird,” Dojo said, and not for the first time, as they began their descent over a range of tall, pointed mountains. “I woulda sworn that she’d find someone by now. I still can’t believe she even showed up to the  _ first  _ one by herself.”

“Ah, Dojo!” Omi, wearing the Two-Ton Tunic and clutching the Mantis Flip Coin in one hand, patted the dragon’s neck. “You worry far too much. It is a good thing that Wuya has been unable to find a partner! It makes our task a  _ most _ simple one.”

“Don’t get used to it just yet, kiddo.” Dojo swept past the mountains and into the shallow hills of the valley floor, where he landed lightly on the ground. He waited for Omi to dismount, then shrunk down and clambered onto his shoulder.   
  
“You are certain that the Eye of Dashi is here?” Omi asked, glancing around. The area in which they’d landed was sparsely forested, with scrub and grass covering most of the ground. In the near distance, the mountains loomed high, scraping at the sky.   
  
“It’s somewhere around here,” Dojo said. “Close.” He sniffed the air. “Can’t tell exactly where, though. Could take a while to track it down.”   
  
“Then we must waste no time!” Omi bounded forward and leapt at the nearest tree, eliciting a startled yelp from the dragon on his shoulder. He scaled its trunk easily and pulled himself onto a branch.   
  
“Can you give a guy a little  _ warning _ next time?” Dojo groused, just barely hanging on to Omi’s sleeve by the tips of his claws.    
  
Omi didn’t answer him. He was scanning the valley with bright, sharp eyes, like an oversized owl in search of a meal.    
  
Dojo hauled himself up with a grunt, wrapping himself around Omi’s neck after a quick, uneasy glance at the ground far below them. “You see it?” he asked.   
  
Omi frowned. “No,” he said. “I do not see the Eye of Dashi. But I fear we are not alone.” He pointed to a hill some distance off. There, appearing as little more than a shiny black dot, sat a car. Smooth, sleek, and  _ quite _ out of place in the rugged landscape.

Dojo squinted at it. “Huh. How’d that get all the way out here? There’s no road!”    
  
“It is most suspicious,” Omi agreed. “It seems we may not be the only ones in pursuit of this Shen Gong Wu.” He swung himself down to a lower branch and dropped to the ground. “We must locate the Eye of Dashi as quickly as we can! Do you recall anything about where you might have left it, Dojo?”   
  
“Nope, sorry.” Dojo shrugged. “It was somewhere in this valley, but I can’t remember specifics. We might’ve put it in a tree? Or under a rock. I dunno.”   
  
“You are of very little help,” Omi informed him. “No matter! I shall find the Eye of Dashi myself.” He marched off into the brush, with a somewhat miffed dragon on his shoulder muttering to himself about ungrateful kids.

* * *

Jack Spicer’s day wasn’t going too great.   
  
Sure, the thought of his  _ own perpetual energy generator _ was an appealing one, but acquiring it was proving to be a  _ way _ bigger hassle than what he’d thought he signed up for. First they’d had to schlep all the way out to the middle of buttfuck  _ nowhere, _ and now he had to  _ hike. _ Through  _ brush  _ and  _ trees. _ And the best part? His “guide” seemed to have no earthly clue of exactly where the damned thing  _ was. _   
  
“Don’t fall behind!” Wuya snapped at him when he stopped to catch his breath for the third time since beginning their hike. “We  _ must _ find the Eye of Dashi before the Xiaolin Warriors do!”   
  
“Easy for you to say,” Jack shot back. “You don’t have lungs.” Or muscles, or joints, and  _ man _ he was glad he didn’t have to wear a binder these days because his ribs were hurting enough already. As it was, he was regretting his decision to wear nice pants and a pullover, because hiking was filthy, sweaty work. At least he’d swapped his glasses out for wraparound goggles, so he didn’t have to worry about them flying off his head every time he bent over to catch his breath. They did tint everything yellow, though.    
  
“When I  _ had _ lungs _ ,” _ Wuya sniffed, “I was not  _ nearly _ so weak and pathetic. You can hardly go three steps without stopping to gasp for breath.”   
  
“So I don’t get out much.” Jack stretched one arm across his chest, and then the other. “Programming robots isn’t exactly a high-cardio exercise, y’know.”

Wuya muttered something uncomplimentary under her breath. Jack chose to ignore it.   
  
“Look,” he said, pointing to a hill a short distance off. It was a little taller than the surrounding hills, and featured a tree with low-reaching, accessible branches. “That thing’s probably got a decent vantage point.”   
  
Wuya glared at the tree. “It isn’t the  _ stupidest _ idea you’ve had today,” she said grudgingly.

“Yeah, yeah, news flash, I’m a genius.” Jack stretched his arms over his head one more time, and then set off. 

The hike was somewhat easier now that he had a destination in mind. The hills didn’t knock as much wind out of him, and he didn’t trip over as many rocks and roots. The tree seemed almost to beckon him closer, which would have struck him as weird if he’d given any thought to it.

The last hill wasn’t too steep, but he still had to stop and catch his breath at the top. “Man,” he muttered to himself with his hands on his knees, “I’m  _ really _ out of shape. I gotta hit the company gym some time.”   
  
Once he’d recovered enough breath to climb a tree with, he straightened up and approached it. As he stood before it, debating on which branch to grab first, the sun came out from behind a cloud and lit up the whole valley with the golden light of late afternoon. Up in the higher branches of the tree, something glinted.

Jack blinked. What the heck could be  _ that shiny _ in a  _ tree _ in the  _ middle of nowhere? _ From behind him, he heard a cackle.

“There!” Wuya zipped over to his shoulder, practically vibrating with glee. “In that tree! The Eye of Dashi!”   
  
Oh. He hadn’t really expected it to be shiny, or in a tree, but it made about as much sense as anything else in his life at the moment. 

“Quickly!” Wuya floated in front of him, shoving herself  _ way _ too into his personal bubble. “You must retrieve this Shen Gong Wu at once!”

Jack rolled his eyes at her. “Yeah, yeah, I see it. Calm your incorporeal tits.”

He cracked his knuckles, shook his arms out, and approached the tree with a set, determined expression. Okay. He’d never actually climbed a tree, but it had to be easy, right?

Getting up into the tree was easier than he expected; there was a low-hanging branch within easy reach, and it was sturdy enough to support his weight. From there, it wasn’t too hard to get up into the crook of the trunk where it split into two, and from  _ there _ it was just a matter of going from branch to branch, slowly making his way up the tree.

“Faster!” Wuya urged. “We must act  _ swiftly!” _

“Give me some dang credit!” Jack protested. “I’m doing my best here!” He squinted up into the branches, up to where the...what did she keep calling it? The Eye of Douchey? Well, whatever it was, it was still pretty far out of his reach.

He hauled himself up onto the next branch and then, holding on tight to the trunk for balance, he began to shakily stand up. If he could just reach…!

His first attempt didn’t quite get there, his fingers scraping air rather than polished bronze. Jack grit his teeth and took a cautious step along the branch, which quivered under his weight. “Come on,” he muttered. “Just this one thing, and then I’m pretty much set for life.”

He reached out again, and his fingers were  _ just _ about to brush the edge of the Wu when there was a loud rustle of branches, and then a pair of hands darted down from above and snatched it away.

“What the  _ heck?” _ Jack exclaimed out loud, recoiling so violently that he neglected to watch where he was putting his foot. Next thing he knew, he was plummeting out of the tree, hitting what felt like every single branch on the way down. 

“Oof!” he grunted when he hit the ground, and peeled his face out of the dirt just in time to see a pair of feet land right in front of him.

“Ha!” an unfamiliar voice crowed. “Once again, Wuya, your efforts to procure the Shen Gong Wu are in vain! The Eye of Dashi is  _ mine!” _

Jack propped himself up on his elbows and squinted up at the newcomer. He wasn’t really sure what he’d expected, but a bald teenager in pajamas definitely wasn’t it.

“Who are  _ you _ supposed to be?” he asked, wiping tree schmutz off his face. 

The teenager turned around to look down at him, and Jack did a double take when he noticed the...what, snake? Lizard? Some kind of green reptile was perched on his shoulder and looking down at Jack with a weirdly intelligent look in its eyes. Creepy as heck.

“A-ha!” The teenager pointed at Jack triumphantly. “I have defeated you, minion of Wuya! Your evil scheme has been foiled!”

“What?!” Jack scrambled to his feet, scowling. “Listen, bucko, I’m nobody’s minion! I’m just here for the energy generator. And you didn’t  _ defeat _ me! You just knocked me out of a tree!”

The teenager looked confused. “Energy generator?”

“That!” Jack jabbed a finger at the Eye of Dashi the kid was still holding aloft.

“The Eye of Dashi?” the lizard said.

Jack jumped back about three feet, earning himself a very perplexed look from the guy in the pajamas and a mildly insulted one from the lizard.

“What’s  _ his _ problem?” the lizard muttered. The kid stared at Jack, and then took a step back, holding the Eye of Dashi close to his chest.

“You shall not win this Shen Gong Wu this day!” he declared. “I have already retrieved it, as is my duty as a Xiaolin Warrior!”

“Xiaolin Warrior?” Jack blinked, and then whirled around to look at Wuya.  _ “These _ are the warriors you keep warning me about? This is just some kid and his weird pet!”

“Pet?!” the lizard squawked.

“Do not underestimate them, you fool!” Wuya hissed. “Now, quickly! Take the Eye of Dashi and let us be on our way!”

“Take the-what?” Jack looked back to the kid. “Are you kidding me? I know you’re big on the whole ‘evil’ thing or whatever, but I’m not going to  _ rob a kid. _ Jeez.”

“I implore you to try!” The kid dropped into a battle stance, one hand held back, every muscle tense and ready. “I will gladly teach you a lesson in humility!”

“No, no, hang on.” Jack stuck a hand into his pocket, fishing around. “Just gimme a second, I’ll - ah! Here it is.” He pulled out a battered checkbook and a ballpoint pen without a cap, and flipped the checkbook open to a blank page. “Okay. How much do you want for it?”

The kid just stared at him. “Want for it?” he echoed.   
  
“Yeah, you know. What do you think, ten grand? Maybe twenty? I’m feeling generous today, I can be flexible.”

The kid’s face was as blank as the check in Jack’s hand. “Ten grand what? What is so grand?”

“Money, Omi,” the lizard whispered to him. “He’s talking about money.”

The kid blinked, and then his face twisted itself into a ferocious scowl. He jabbed a furious finger in Jack’s direction. “The Shen Gong Wu,” he snarled, “are  _ not _ for sale! Much less to the likes of  _ you!” _

“The likes of me?” Jack repeated, offended. “What the heck is that even supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the kid snapped, “that I am not so foolish as to give over a mystical object of such power and importance to a  _ servant of the forces of evil!  _ It does not  _ matter _ what you offer in return!

“I’m not a-! Argh.” Jack closed his eyes and grit his teeth, trying to remember the tips from the anger management class his board of directors had bullied him into taking. Okay, deep breath. In. Out. He exhaled heavily and opened his eyes.

“Listen,” he said, keeping his tone as steady as he possibly could. “Uh,” he wracked his memory of the last few minutes for whatever the talking lizard had called the kid, “Opi, or whatever your name is-”   
  
“Omi,” the kid said icily.

“Right. Omi. Look, I swear I’m not evil. Seriously!”

“Do not try to fool me!” Omi snapped. “You are  _ clearly _ working with the Heylin witch Wuya! She is right there behind you!”

“Who, her?” Jack spared a quick glance back at the floating ghost, and then returned his attention to the matter at hand. “No, I’m not. I only agreed to come here for  _ that.” _ He pointed to the Eye of Dashi. “I couldn’t care less about whatever good-and-evil shenanigans you’ve got going on here. All I need is that thing, and then I’ll get out of your hair. Promise!”   


Omi frowned. “I do not have hair,” he said.

Oh, lord. Jack rolled his eyes. “Look,” he said, “I don’t even need it  _ permanently. _ Just let me borrow it for like, a month, and then I’ll give it back. Promise.”   
  
“That, uh,” the lizard said. “That isn’t exactly how it works, buddy.”

Jack scoffed. “What,” he said, “there’s  _ rules?” _

“Of  _ course _ there are rules!” Wuya shrieked, making Jack jump. He’d almost forgotten she was there. “You cannot simply  _ borrow _ a Shen Gong Wu from your enemies! Shen Gong Wu must be  _ won! _ Or better yet,  _ taken.” _ She leered at Omi, who scowled and took a step back.

“If you are so foolish as to believe you can take it by force,” he said, “I will be quite happy to prove otherwise!”

“Gladly!” Wuya floated over Jack’s shoulder with a smug smile curving her painted lips.

“Whoa, whoa.” Jack glanced wildly between the two. “Hang on a minute-!”

Before he could protest further, he was tackled off his feet by Omi with a gleeful scream of a battle cry. Jack hit the dirt for the second time that day, only this time it was compounded by the weight of a teenager on his chest. Sheesh, he was heavier than he looked. 

“Ha!” Omi crowed. “You are no match for me!”

Jack grunted, attempting to sit up. His attempts proved in vain, and all he was really able to do was lift his head and shoulders a few inches off the ground before he had to flop back in defeat. “Dude,” he said, “would you mind getting off me?”

“I will not!” Omi pointed a finger at him, very nearly sticking it up his nose. “I have defeated you, and you must accept your defeat and your humiliation!”

“All you did was knock me over! That wasn’t a fair fight!” Jack squirmed uselessly, trying in vain to wriggle his way out of his predicament.    
  
Omi scoffed. “Fairness is  _ wasted _ on villains such as you! I have performed my duties, and I have ensured the safety of this Wu!” He held up the Eye of Dashi, letting it dangle from his fingers.   
  
Jack looked at the Wu, and then to Omi. He glanced him over from top to bottom, studied him carefully.   
  
_ Yeah, _ he decided,  _ this guy probably won’t sue me. _

So he reached up and poked two fingers straight into Omi’s eyes.

Omi yelped and reared back, which gave Jack enough leverage to roll out from under him and snatch the Eye of Dashi out of his hand while he was distracted. 

“Book it!” he yelled to Wuya as he scrambled to his feet and stumbled into a run.Yeah, he wasn’t thrilled about robbing a kid, and this wasn’t exactly his  _ proudest _ moment, but this thing was  _ definitely _ worth it. So long as the whole “stealing” thing didn’t get back to the press or anything, he’d be good.   
  
Behind him, he heard a shout of rage, and started pumping his arms and legs harder in an attempt to boost his speed. 

Alas, he was only a twiggy, out-of-shape nerd, and he was no match for five-odd feet of pure Xiaolin fury.

The only warning Jack got was a shout of  _ “Mantis kick!” _ before he found himself suddenly airborne, which didn’t last long because Omi was there a second later to smack him back down to the ground.   
  
Jack hit the ground hard enough to knock all the air from his lungs, which meant that when Omi touched down lightly beside him, he was able to simply pluck the Eye of Dashi from Jack’s hands and prance away.   
  
“Let this be a lesson to you, evildoer!” he crowed smugly, turning to face Jack as he continued to prance backwards. “Perhaps next time you shall think twice before you defy me!” He shot a sly glance to Wuya. “And perhaps  _ you _ should continue your search for a minion. This one was far too easy to defeat!”   
  
Wuya snarled wordlessly.   
  
Jack lifted his head out of the Jack-shaped crater he’d made in the ground just in time to see the lizard swoop down from the bush it’d apparently been hiding in and - what? Start  _ growing _ until it was the size of a goddamned  _ subway train? _ Jack’s jaw hit the dirt.

Omi gave them both a cheery little wave as he hopped on the back of the...dragon, yeah, that could really be the only explanation here, holy crap, dragons were  _ real?  _

The dragon, or whatever it was, zipped off into the air - without the use of any wings or propulsion system that Jack could see, he’d  _ love _ to know how  _ that  _ worked - and within a few seconds, it was little more than a green scribble in the sky.

And Jack was lying on the ground, smarting all over from a  _ very _ thorough butt-kicking, and, most frustratingly of all, completely empty handed. 

“Urrrrgh,” he groaned as he slowly sat up. Well, at least nothing seemed to be broken. Just very, very sore.    
  
“You  _ FOOL!” _ Wuya screeched, popping up out of the ground in front of him. Jack shrieked and fell back down. “What in the name of all unholy evil was  _ that _ pathetic display?! You could not have put on a worse performance if you’d  _ tried!” _

Jack pushed himself up on his elbows and scowled right back. “Hey, you’re one to talk, lady! You’re not the one who just got their butt handed to them by a weirdo in pajamas!” He brushed some dirt off his sleeve. Man, this jacket was gonna have to go straight in the laundry when he got back. “You coulda  _ warned _ me that there’d be ass-kicking involved,” he added. “I would’ve stayed home.”

Wuya huffed, folding her ghostly arms over where her chest would be if she had one. “I  _ presumed _ you knew how to hold your own in battle!” she snapped. “If you cannot fight for yourself, you should have brought along your artificial minions!”   
  
“My  _ what _ now?” Jack threw an incredulous look in Wuya’s direction. “Do you mean my  _ Jackbots? _ They’re  _ construction drones! _ They haven’t been programmed for combat since I was like  _ 16!  _ And do you know how expensive it’d be to replace them if they got busted?! Robot parts aren’t cheap! I’m not gonna send them out into the field just to get smashed up by some yahoo.” He rolled forward and got to his feet, cracking his back as he stood. “Anyway, it’s a moot point. I lost the whatchamacallit, and it’s not like another one is going to just fall out of the sky. So as far as I’m concerned, we’re done here. I’d say it was nice working with you, buuuut.” He shrugged. “Anyway. See ya.” 

Shoving his hands into his pockets, he began the slow trudge back to where he’d parked his car. A moment later, Wuya floated in front of him with a look of utter bafflement upon her face.

“You’re giving  _ up?” _ she asked, incredulous. “You are not even going to attempt to retrieve it?”

“Retrieve it? What, you mean steal it?” Jack snorts. “Okay, no. First off, I  _ just _ got done getting the stuffing knocked out of me, and I’m not in a hurry to repeat it. And secondly, are you serious? You want me to just...steal from a kid?”

“You didn’t strike me as someone with  _ morals.” _ Wuya wrinkles her nose. “And did you not do just that? You snatched the Eye of Dashi right from his hand!”

“Yeah, but that was like, in the heat of battle.” Jack waved his hand. “Look, I don’t know how things work in Magic Ghost World, but  _ some _ of us have a reputation to think about! Do you have any idea what kinda bad press I’d get if it got out that I’d robbed a kid?” He scooted down the side of the hill and started chugging his way up the next one.   
  
Wuya caught up with him, bobbing around his head like a leaky balloon. “So do not steal it from  _ him,” _ she said. “All you need to do is go to the Xiaolin Temple and pluck it from their vault! A simple task, even for a  _ buffoon _ such as yourself.”

“Stealing from a  _ temple _ is not going to make my reputation any better!” 

“Well!” Wuya huffed. “If you are so determined to do things the  _ Xiaolin _ way, you might as well attempt to  _ win _ it back.”

Jack stopped midway up the hill. “Win it back?” he echoed. He glanced back at her. “How?”   
  
“What do you mean,  _ how? _ ” Wuya snapped. “In a Xiaolin Showdown, you fool!”   
  
“Look, you’ve gotta stop assuming I know stuff.” Jack planted a hand on his hip and gave her a Look.  _ “I have no idea what that is.” _

“When two warriors reach a stalemate over a Shen Gong Wu,” Wuya said, circling over Jack’s head, “they may compete for it in a contest by each wagering one of their own. The winner,” she drifted down to hover in front of his face, “takes all.”

Jack snorted. “Wow,” he said. “Gee, thanks for telling me  _ after I dragged my ass all the way out to Wyoming  _ just to get it kicked into the ground.” He brushed past her, throwing his hands into the air. “So what you’re telling me is that I gotta go find  _ more _ of these things just so I can win the only  _ useful _ one back from Pajamas McGee.”

“And now you see why retrieving them is so important!” Wuya hurried to keep pace with him. “The more Shen Gong Wu one possesses, the more powerful they are!”

“Yeah, I already told you I’m not interested in power.” Jack made a shooing motion with his hand.

“But you  _ are _ interested in the Eye of Dashi.”   
  
“You got me there.” Jack glanced at her sidelong, and then sighed. “So, okay. I guess I’ll keep playing along. For  _ now. _ But as soon as I get that thing, I’m out. Got it?”   
  
“If you  _ can _ obtain it,” Wuya sniffed. “Your performance today was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever  _ seen.” _

“Hey!” Jack jabbed a finger at her. “I was caught off guard, okay? I’ll be prepared next time.” He crested the hill, and started down the other side at a trot. “Now, come on. If I’m gonna do this ‘minion’ thing, or whatever you wanna call it, I’m gonna need a plan. And a bath.”

With a small, triumphant cackle, Wuya followed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for this fic, but there's lots more coming! I'm working on the next installment, which will be a twoshot introducing Rai, and then I'll do Kimiko's intro. More or less working my way through season one here.
> 
> In other news, I went ahead and made a blog for this au! You can find it [here.](https://procrastinationau.tumblr.com/) I've already posted a few things, and there's more to come. And the ask box is open, so if you have any questions about the AU - or anything you want to direct to the characters - feel free to shoot them my way!


End file.
